“Hmm, how’s the search going?” I ask Sean, planting my head on his shoulder and peering to see what he’s looking at on his phone.

“Not bad,” he replies. I half-expect him to hide his phone from me, worried that I am going to see something I won’t like, but then I remember that we’re in this together. That the two of us are doing this as a partnership. And we have nothing to hide from each other.

“I like the look of her,” I remark flirtatiously, nodding to the woman on his screen. He shrugs.

“Not really my type,” he replies.

“You don’t have to play nice with me, remember?” I murmur to him, grinning. I grab my phone, sink down on the couch beside him, and start searching for my own next conquest.

Donnie is in bed, resting up, and it finally feels like our evenings are back to being real adult-time again; not just trying to get enough sleep to deal with being parents the next day. I’ve had a fluttery feeling in my chest all afternoon, thinking about what is going to happen next, thinking about who I’m going to find, itching to grab my phone and start scrolling.

But now that I am, I take my time, leaning against my husband on the couch, not rushing through all the images in front of me. I’ve been licking my wounds after how badly the night with Steffan went, and while I’m craving an exciting experience, I’m worried that all of them will be that bad. I’m so busy with work and Donnie, and I don’t want to waste my time sitting through another dreadful evening with someone I want to get away from.

Sean knows the date with Steffan didn’t go particularly well, but he’s assured me it won’t always be like that.

"You’ll find someone again," he promises me, as he hooks his head over my shoulder and eyes the screen, where I am hovering over the scrolling bar.

"Maybe it’s just a matter of going outside your comfort zone a bit?" He suggests. I suppose he has a point – maybe the problem before was that I went for men I already knew, about whom I had certain preconceptions. Perhaps it would make more sense for me to strike out a bit to someone new and try something I’ve never thought of before.

Which is how I find myself sitting in a bar, glancing around, and waiting for the most beautiful Italian man I’ve ever seen.

Paulo. That’s his name – my second date. Well, soon-to-be, if he actually turns up, of course. I have no idea if he is actually going to arrive anytime soon, and I am beyond nervous to think what I will do if he doesn’t – hell, what I will do if he does.

After the disastrous date with Steffan, I only looked at men I really wanted. Someone who would really satisfy me. I dedicated at least a half-hour every evening to finding someone with whom I could actually click.

This time, Sean is at home, looking after Donnie for us. I did ask if he wanted to put together a date for himself, too, but he assured me that he was fine.

“I think I need a little more time to recover from my last one,” he replied, dropping a kiss on my cheek as I lay in bed scrolling through my new matches.

Eventually, I found someone who jumped out at me. Paulo. An Italian living in London; a good ten years older than me, with hazel eyes, brown curly hair, and a gorgeous, wide smile that jumped out at me the moment I saw it on the app. I couldn’t help but smile back, and when I saw that he had already matched with me, we started launching messages back and forth to get to know each other.

I was a little slower off the mark this time, not wanting to dive into anything too quickly after the disappointment of my last date. I needed to know that my advances weren’t going to end in another lacklustre date.

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But there’s something different about this guy, something about him that I noticed at once. He took control of the conversation on the app, guided it in a way that I liked. It was a calm, cool attitude to have, and it had me a little hypnotised.

So when he suggested that the two of us meet for dinner and drinks in Colchester – far enough out of London that neither of us will run into anyone we know – I was helpless to resist. I agreed at once, put on my nicest dress, slipped on a pair of high heels, and went to meet him at the bar that he’d picked out for us.

As soon as I saw the place, I started to relax. It is nothing close to the place that Steffan brought me to – it has real atmosphere, soft music, dim lights, and is clearly a good first-date spot. A few couples are sitting around me right now, leaning in close to each other, voices low, as though they are speaking to each other and each other alone…

And then, I lift my head, and I see him. My breath catches in my throat. He is even more gorgeous than his pictures made him out to be. And I know, in this instant, that I am not going to be able to resist doing whatever this man asks me to.

I rise to my feet to greet him, and Paulo leans down to plant a kiss on my cheek. He is a few inches taller than me, smells of expensive aftershave, and his face is smattered with distinguished-looking designer stubble. He takes a seat, his eyes lingering on me.

“You are more beautiful than I thought you would be.”

I feel a heat on my cheeks as he waves over the bartender to get us both a drink. He doesn’t ask what I want, just orders for the two of us. I watch him as he does so. He moves with confidence, just the way I thought he would, as though he might as well own this place.

And everyone in it.

He hands me the cocktail that he has picked out for us, and I take a sip. It tastes perfect, the sharp, cherry flavour spreading over my tongue.

“It’s good to finally meet you in person,” he says. I smile and nod.

“Yeah, same with you,” I blurt out. “My last date on this thing was just awful, so boring, so I wasn’t sure about doing it again, but then I was talking to you and I just…”

I realise that I am blabbering. I need to calm myself down. I am not sure what it is about him, but I feel the need to perform, to step up my game and make sure he knows I’m into this. He sits there, not stopping me, just letting me go on, as though he’s enjoying the way I’m pouring myself out to him.

“Anyway, yeah,” I finish up. I take another sip of the drink, hoping that it’s going to shut me up for now. “What about you?”

“I’ve been on the app since I moved to London,” he explains. He hasn’t said much about his own spouse, but I figure that he wants to keep them out of it. And honestly, the thought of having all his attention aimed at me for the night is what I want.

“It’s a good way for me to explore some of my more specific interests,” he says, and his eyes lower to my lips for just the briefest of moments. I can actually feel myself getting a little tingly between the thighs, and I cross my legs.

“Come, let’s go to our table,” he says. He rises to his feet again and places his hand on the small of my back as he steers me towards the spot where we’ll be eating dinner. Just the merest touch like that, it feels like he is burning into my skin, right through my clothes. Does he know the kind of effect he has on me? Does he have it on all women?

I get the feeling he does. He orders for us again. I don’t mind. Normally, I like things just so, but there’s something to be said for letting someone else call the shots for a while – not what I’m used to, but fun for the night. I smile as I listen to him talk, the Italian names of the dishes rolling off his tongue with ease. I wonder what else he can do with it…

The food is delicious, and he tells me about his travels around Europe as we eat. We share a passion for travel, so the conversation flows easily. I notice that, just like he did on the app, he is guiding it – not pushy, not forcing, but carefully levelling the flow of conversation. It’s almost a marvel to see it happening right there in front of me, the confidence with which he speaks, as though it’s a skill he’s been perfecting for years.

We finish the bottle of wine between us, and I am not sure whether it’s his attention or his confidence or something else entirely, but I know that I need him. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off his hands this entire time, and I can already imagine how good they’ll feel doing everything that I need them to do.

“I’d like to take you back to my hotel,” he murmurs as he slips an arm around my waist. He is giving me every chance to change my mind, but I feel like he has hypnotised me. There’s something about his control and power that is so alluring, that I can’t deny, and I have to find out how it extends to the bedroom.

“I’d love that,” I breathe back. He catches my chin in his hand and holds me steady as he kisses me for the first time. Right there, in front of the restaurant, not caring a bit if anyone sees us. The soles of my feet are tingling, and my body arches towards his, unable to deny the near-painful chemistry between us. This is happening. It’s really happening. I can hardly believe it, but I’m about to have sex with someone other than my husband.